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Wednesday, April 18, 2012

I am desperately trying to write a post about my first true trip away from the child. A momentous occasion on many fronts.

But I can't.

I turned on TLC and have been sucked into episode after episode of My Crazy Obsession. Every time I try to concentrate on writing, they show a piece more bizarre than the last. Culminating in one about a husband who buys sex dolls (some used!!?!?!?!) - a habit condoned and encouraged by his wife. Because it's not sexual for them (uh, maybe not for you lady) and has brought them together since now they have something to talk about again (cut to the scene where they are having tea with one of the dolls and the two living humans are talking to the silicon doll and not each other).

So you can understand why I am finding posting so difficult. The level of judging and ridicule these people deserve requires a large amount of my time and brain power. I have nothing left for you people.

But I will pull myself together enough to share with you the photo I received this morning from my husband ASSURING me the child and he both made it through the night alive without being under my watchful eye.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Somewhere in the house a noise caught my attention. As a mother, you become acutely aware of all types of noises and can instantaneously sort the noises into categories. "Act NOW. Go go go!" or "Ignore. It's just a dog licking some inappropriate body part for the 10 billionth time today."

This noise set off the "Hmmm. What IS that?" reaction series.

I followed the noise into the hallway where the cat was scratching feverishly around the litter box. Not IN the litter box...around the litter box.

Well that is odd.

Then Edison let loose with his battle cry - a distinct cross between a broken sprinkler and squeak toy on its last squeak.

Oh no...he's hunting.

I cautiously looked behind the litter box to see if Edison had removed the legs from a spider, punched a hole in the wings of some unsuspecting moth or if there was a crumpled up ball of tinfoil stuck in the corner. That's when I saw the tail.

20 minutes later, I stopped screaming and peeled myself off the ceiling.

This was not just any intruder. My initial thought before I was gripped with the panic of being eaten alive by a rodent the size of a Snickers bar was "Holy crap! A mouse." But upon closer inspection (read: as he darted from behind the litter box into the open door of The Bean's room and sent me screaming into the living room), I saw we had a chipmunk on our hands.

Somehow I bypassed my natural hunting response of paralysis and closed the door behind the cat and chipmunk. I was half hoping for an epic cage match to ensue - clearing me of any involvement in chipmunk removal. But it was The Bean's room and chipmunk guts aren't good for growing girls. Besides, within 5 minutes the cat was clawing and mewing at the door to be let out.

Stupid cat had given up the chase once the chipmunk had crawled into the furthest corner of the room; safe from cat claws...under THE CRIB.

That's when the nanny showed up.

In retrospect, I deeply regret not having a nanny cam set up. By this time we would be internet stars and I could retire on my YouTube fame.

There was the screaming. The jumping back in terror for no reason roughly 203 times. The moving every piece of furniture in the room with extreme trepidation and dropping it and running in fear every time a tuft of dog hair moved. All from two grown women seemingly responsible enough to raise children.

The following items were used in The Chipmunk Hunt and Extraction of 2012:

* A Mary Kay box emptied of my skin care regiment

* A stuffed giraffe from Crate and Barrel

* A burp cloth

* A lazy, disinterested Labrador Retriever

* A cookie sheet

Shockingly, this arsenal of weapons wasn't working. It was time to get serious.

I marched out of the room and detailed the new plan to the nanny, "OK. We need to go old school. All the old cartoons show people chasing rodents with a broom and a shoe box. Those are our new weapons. When I find the chipmunk, you'll know because I'll start screaming like a little girl. That's your cue to come in behind me and catch him in the box as I chase him with the broom."

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

I'm willing to let her go toothless just to make the whole experience stop. How important is corn on the cob in the grand scheme of things?

When one's gums hurt, everything hurts 500,000,000 times more. So when The Bean touched a paper box, her head popped off her neck. When she sat on the carpet, her neck started shooting flames into the air. And when she stepped on a piece of dried grass one of the dogs dragged into the house, one of those flames landed on her pajamas and set her whole body on fire.

The upside is I've convinced her baby Tylenol is delicious candy and not poison.